


Right in front of you

by Centenniel



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Cruel Intentions AU, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Momoi is OOC, Sex Bets, Some OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centenniel/pseuds/Centenniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored, wealthy step-siblings Aomine Daiki and Momoi Satsuki destroy the lives of those around them with their games of manipulation. </p><p>In his pursuit of victory, Aomine is confronted with a past he'd rather forget.</p><p>Cruel Intentions AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first KnB fic. 
> 
> It takes place during their second year of high school. 
> 
> Details will be laid out in the story.
> 
> Haven't decided how graphic and self-indulgent I want this story to become. I guess that will depend on my mood at the time of writing.

Momoi walks into his room without knocking. “I need a favor,” she says, brandishing something silver and pointy between her fingers.

Aomine drops his pen, bangs his left knee against the underside of the desk, and covers the open pages of a small leather notebook with his hands, trying to look nonchalant all the while. “Oi, you can't just waltz in here like that. What if I was...jacking off or something?”

She rolls her eyes. “That would be less embarrassing than what you were actually doing. Don’t worry, Dai-chan, I won’t tell anybody about your secret diary.”

“It’s a journal,” he snaps before realizing he walked right into that one. “What do you want?”

She sniffs and gracefully drapes herself sideways over the leather chaise lounge at the foot of his bed. “Daiki, you’re the only one who can help me.”

Aomine highly doubts that. Momoi has a loyal legion of followers, boys and girls plus the entire Touo Academy basketball team, ready to slit their own throats at her command. “What?” he asks anyways.

“I need you to have sex with Kise.”

He can only blink in response. The blunt, outlandish demand leaves him at a total loss for words - refusal or otherwise.

Momoi settles on her back and lifts her gaze toward the ceiling. Her long hair slides down over her shoulders and frames her chest quite nicely, an image which doesn’t go unnoticed by Aomine. “Dai-chan, did you hear me? I - “

“Yeah, yeah. I heard you,” he interrupts. “But uh...what the fuck, Satsuki?”

She folds her hands over her stomach, looking like the perfect caricature of a psychiatric patient. Only instead of hashing out childhood issues with a paid professional, she’s about to explain to her stepbrother why she needs him to fuck their former middle school classmate. “You remember Kasamatsu-san, don’t you? He was the previous captain of the Kaijo basketball team.”

Kasamatsu Yukio. Nationally renowned point guard. Manly eyebrows. Aomine grunts in affirmation.

“Well, I ran into him on the street a few months ago. He was with another former Kaijo regular: the shooting guard, Moriyama-san. He’s actually the one who stopped me to talk, wanting to know if it was true that you quit the basketball team.”

Aomine frowns. He remembers Kasamatsu because of his talent and captain position but can’t place this Moriyama. Had he been the one with the crazy eyebrows and - no, that’s Kaijo’s center. A vague memory of narrow eyes and an eccentric shooting style begins to form but when he tries to draw up more details, the image fades completely.

It doesn’t matter. He’s more irritated that the news of his departure from the basketball team has made its way to those outside the high school circuit. “And? What’d you tell him?”

“The truth. Yes, you quit and no, I don’t know why.” She shrugs. “He asked me to join them for a coffee and normally I would have said no but I realized that Kasamatsu-san was totally red and had not said a word the entire time.” She giggles and continues, “he’s quite cute. On the court, he’s very focused and stern but otherwise, he’s so shy. It’s charming.”

“That’s great,” Aomine says dryly. “Get to the point.”

“I was just about to do that. Anyways, Kasamatsu-san and I are both busy people but we managed to meet at his dorm on the weekends. He’s not very experienced and would get very nervous every time I pulled down his pants. I made enormous sacrifices on my part not to pressure him into returning the favor. If you know what I mean.”

Aomine does and wishes he didn’t.

“Well, then imagine my displeasure when I received a text from Kasamatsu-san a few weeks ago, informing me that our arrangement wasn’t working - while I hadn't even gotten off once during our time together. God, men are so selfish.”

“Kise,” Aomine practically shouts. “What does this have to do with Kise?”

Momoi begins using the flat side of the silver weapon in her hand to saw at her nails. “Oh. Well, I did some investigating and it turns out that the reason Kasamatsu-san ended the best thing that ever happened to him is because he’s fallen for someone else: a pretty blond thing who also happens to be a mutual acquaintance of ours.”

“What do you...no…” He begins to laugh, partly from shock and partly because it had been so obvious, how could they have not noticed it before? “You’re fucking with me.”

“Unfortunately not.” Momoi looks and sounds significantly less amused than Aomine. “Which is why I need you to fuck Kise and show Kasamatsu-san what happens when you take without reciprocating.”

Aomine grins. “You’re jealous.”

“Of course not.” She pauses and jabs the nail file in his direction to emphasize her next statement. “It’s justice.”

“But why do I have to sleep with Kise?” Aomine asks. He stands and walks over to the chaise lounge. He nudges at her hip with his foot until she sits up, pulling her knees to her chest and making room for him on the seat. “Why not go for Kasamatsu directly? Or sleep with Kise yourself?”

“One, Kise doesn’t sleep with women. I’m sure you’ve suspected as much and I’ve known so since our third year in middle school.”

“You’ve known for that long and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not my place to out people. Which is also why I’m not going after Kasamatsu-san. If I really wanted to fuck up his entire life, all I’d have to do is make public what I’ve discovered.” She resumes her filing, switching to her right hand. “I’m not an evil person, just fair."

“Nice to know your manipulation has moral limits.” Aomine rolls his eyes. “But what makes you think that I’d agree to this dramatic plot of yours? I like women.” He walks his index and middle finger across her knee cap, down the front slope of her thigh. “Especially women with large breasts.”

Momoi swats his hand away. “What about Sakurai Ryo?”

Aomine groans. “I should have never told you about that handjob.”

“Remember what you said to me last weekend? That you’re bored with simpering, virginal girls who won’t even get on top? This could be the answer to breaking out of your slump. Tits are just aesthetic. Boys will let you put it in their ass and they won’t break if you’re a little rough with them. Besides, Kise is hot.”

Aomine isn’t about to argue with her on the last point. Athletic build, neverending eyelashes, perfect skin. It’s no wonder that the modeling world can’t get enough of him.

“Eh. But he’s so annoying,” he finally says in an effort to talk himself out of the idea as much as to convince Momoi of the same.

“I bet he's a lot less annoying with your dick in his mouth,” she replies, holding out her hand and inspecting her nails. "Or I have a ball-gag you could borrow." Before he can tell her that he didn't need to know that, she adds, “let’s place a wager on it, hm? Make things a little more interesting.”

Aomine almost laughs at how well Momoi knows him. “That’s not fair.”

“Not my fault you can’t turn down a challenge.” She shrugs. “So then. Shall we set the parameters?”

"Oi, Satsuki," he says, narrowing his eyes at her. "You've been scheming this for a while, haven't you?"

Momoi smirks. “Think what you want Dai-chan, but if I win...I get your car.”

“What!”

It’s not as if Aomine has any sentimental attachment to his car. His father had bought it for him just to piss of his mother and he wouldn’t be able to (legally) drive it for another five years but it’s still a nice fucking vehicle.

“Why would I do that?” he demands once his disbelief fades enough for him to speak. “That’s a 1956 Jaguar Roadster.”

“I mean, if you’re afraid of losing, I understand,” she taunts. “Kise is a bit out of your league.”

Aomine grits his teeth. “No fucking way.”

“Dai-chan, don’t be like that. It’s just a car. You can get another.” She drops a leg to the floor and leans forward until her face is inches from Aomine’s, his shoulder wedged between her breasts. “But if you win, I’ll give you the one thing you’ve never been able to have since our parents got together.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Her pink eyes sparkle with mischief and he hopes that she doesn’t say what he thinks she’s going to say.

“Me.”

He almost groans aloud but chooses to hide his disappointment instead. Although Satsuki is definitely his type and finds the offer tempting enough, he never seriously considers trying to bed her for several reasons.

Foremost, his mother would be so disappointed in him. Satsuki’s father probably wouldn’t like it either but Aomine doesn’t care about how the two-timing, pathetic bastard his mother married feels.

Secondly, for all her conniving ways, Momoi is rather prudish which explains why she took Kasamatsu’s sudden change of heart after all those free blowjobs as the ultimate insult. She’s not much better than the simpering virgins she slandered a few minutes before.

Aomine untangles himself from her cleavage and stands. “Thanks but no thanks. I really like that car.” He climbs into his bed and lays down, head propped up against the headboard. He busies himself with a game on his phone to distract himself from the thought of sweat-slick blond hair and half-lidded pink eyes.

Momoi stands without another word and disappears from his room. Aomine figures that he hurt her feelings but she'll get over it. She doesn't need his approval to know she's an extremely desirable girl. 

He beats the level he's been working on for a week and celebrates with a small cry of victory but with nobody to hear or congratulate him, he feels kind of stupid. He detects the light patter of footsteps marching towards his room and he makes it point to focus on the device in his hand when he spots Momoi just outside in the hallway.  

“Oh, Dai-chan,” Momoi sings.

“”Hm?” He concentrates on matching cookies of like color together.

“I’ll let you put it anywhere.”

His mouth goes dry. The phone slips from his hand and lands on his chest. He looks up at Momoi who is now standing in his doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. She looks smug, as if she knows that she’s reeled Aomine into her little game of revenge.

“Deal.”


	2. The Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't updated this in forever. I'm the slowest writer ever. Apologies for the late update and for this lame chapter.

Aomine and Momoi present a civil, united front from the porch as wave their parents off. The black car chauffeuring them to the airport slows down and Aomine’s mother lowers the window. She blows them a kiss. “We’ll bring you guys something back from Bali. Study hard!”

“Don’t worry, we will!” Momoi calls back. “Have a safe trip!” Under her breath, she hisses, “you gold-digging lush.”

Aomine slings an arm around her shoulders, his usually one-sided smirk unnervingly symmetrical. “That’s rich coming from the daughter of an unfaithful, crooked bastard,” he replies through his smile.

 

(The parental units always choose to spend the summer months at their jointly-owned condo off the Indian Ocean, returning at the start of autumn with burnt, unrecognizable complexions and another step closer to divorce. Both Momoi’s father and Aomine’s mother used to lament that the children could never join them, darn those school and basketball obligations but oh well, don’t burn the house down, we’ll be back in a few months.

With no such excuse this year, Aomine had been afraid that his mother would drag him to Bali with them, either by guilt or by force. Not that Aomine has anything against Bali. But no island, not even Japan, seems big enough for the way Satsuki’s father tries to bang every female between the ages of eighteen and thirty, and how his mother drinks her feelings in rum as a result.

To his surprise, she asked if he would mind staying in Japan because Momoi’s father would feel so much better knowing that he’d be there to look after her once basketball camp ended. He immediately agreed, hammering home the point that if any unscrupulous person were to find out that Momoi was all alone in such a big house, so far from any neighbors, who knew what could happen?)

 

The black car rounds the corner, out of sight. The step-siblings hold their pose for another few seconds before relaxing into their usual slouches.

“Thank fucking god. I thought they’d never leave,” Aomine growls. He pulls away, his forearm sticky and clammy from hanging on to Momoi. “I’m going inside. God bless whoever invented AC.”

“Oh, okay then. Bye, Dai-chan!”

Aomine looks over his shoulder and sees Momoi skipping down the porch steps. “Eh? Where are you going?”

She stops and twirls to face him with a look of exaggerated surprise. “Didn’t you know? Today is the final game of the Inter-high. Kaijo is playing Shutoku.”

Her tone is casual but she’s obviously trying to incite some sort of emotional reaction - anger or guilt or sadness. It would have worked four months ago but now he just rolls his eyes and doesn’t give her the satisfaction.“Is it? Well, have fun.”

“Thanks! Anything you want me to tell Ki-chan while I’m there? How is that going, by the way?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Aomine retorts before he can stop himself.

When they made that stupid bet a week ago, Aomine had kind of forgotten he no longer had Kise’s number. One too many nights at the club and spilled beers had finally pushed his phone over the edge, dying before he could finish acquiring the digits of a particularly gifted university student.

His service provider had apologized, explaining that since his new phone was on a completely different operating system from his previous one, they couldn’t transfer his contacts, pictures, or settings. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal then since he doesn’t really call anyone besides Momoi and whoever he’s hooking up with at the time.

“Fuck me? Not until you sleep with Kise. Although with the way things are going, I don’t think you’ll be getting laid at all.”

Aomine knows that Momoi has Kise’s number but would rather eat glass that ask her for help. Which means short of messaging him on one of his fan-sites or showing up at his school in Kanagawa, going to the game is probably his best chance of getting in touch with Kise.

“Wait up,” he tells her and steps inside the house, cursing his shortsightedness. He goes to his room and pulls off his ragged t-shirt, examining the contents of his closet for something to wear.

Aomine doesn’t give a shit about fashion. He figures with his height and build, everything looks good on him so he usually chooses to dress as simply as possible: fitted pants, soft cotton shirts, sneakers, everything in dark or neutral colors. In middle school, Kise would lament Aomine’s wasted potential on such dull apparel and urge him to wear something more stylish.

But he’s seen the things that Kise considers “stylish” clothing: jaunty hats with feathers in the brim and weird, drapey scarves that look like vaginas. He doesn’t understand how anyone can voluntarily put on a cropped vest and not light themselves on fire but he figures that’s why Kise is a model and Aomine is not.

After a thorough perusal of his wardrobe, he decides that he’ll just have to woo his former teammate with his charming personality and dresses as quickly as possible, pulling on whatever looks clean. If Momoi suspects him of actually trying to look nice for Kise, he’ll never hear the end of it.

Reemerging outside, the summer heat feels like a hand around his throat. Aomine almost changes his mind about going to the game until he looks down and sees Momoi’s outstretched hand.

“Hurry, Dai-chan! The first quarter has already started.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The corner of his mouth twitches into an almost-smile but luckily his back is turned to lock-up the house so Momoi doesn’t catch it.

As he joins her at the bottom of the porch steps, he contemplates the idea that this might be trap. Momoi has little reason to help bridge the gap between him and Kise except, perhaps, to watch him crash and burn.

But basketball had always been a common love and therefore neutral ground between them. Aomine, despite all the vicious remarks and lies they’d thrown at each other the last couple of years, still clings to the belief that when it comes to basketball, Momoi won’t totally fuck him over.

He lets her hold his hand as they walk toward the main street, ignoring the fact that it’s really too hot for such close contact. They haven’t gotten along in months, not since he quit the basketball team, and doesn’t want to be the one to ruin this temporary reprieve.

“Remember Dai-chan,” she says, untangling her fingers from his when they reach the bus stop. “Photographic evidence or it doesn’t count.”

*

Aomine and Momoi arrive at the stadium just as the second half is about to begin and they’re swept up in the horde of spectators shuffling back to their seats. “We should’ve gotten here earlier,” Momoi says, stepping off to the side and scanning the rows for a place to sit.

“Looks like the place is full. At least we tried.” Aomine shrugs and turns to leave.

Momoi grabs the back of his shirt. “Not so fast. I don’t think anybody is sitting in those seats near the front.”

Aomine tries to pull away but Momoi’s grip tightens. “Satsuki, le’go. You’re ruining my shirt.”

_“Hey, isn’t that Aomine from Touo?”_

He hadn’t noticed before but now that he faces the returning crowd, he can see just how many eyes widen in recognition as they pass. They hide their mouths behind their hands but it doesn’t prevent the whispers from reaching his ears.

_“I thought he quit. What’s he doing here?”_

_“His middle school teammates are in the finals. He must be here to support one of them.”_

_“Looks like he’s gained some weight since he stopped playing basketball.”_

He bristles and glowers in the general direction of that last comment. One guy in a blue and white stripe t-shirt squeaks and scurries away.

Momoi’s hold on him loosens and he glances over his shoulder at her. “Ignore them,” she says, shaking her head.

The sight of her lips curved into a sad smile instantly softens his anger. He shrugs as if he hadn’t been bothered in the first place. “Whatever,” he mutters and turns just in time to see Shutoku and Kaijo walk onto the court.

The crowd leaps to their feet and cheers but Aomine can hardly hear them over the thrum of his heart. A flash of green catches his eye and he’s suddenly paralyzed with dread. Aomine wants to look away but he can’t take his eyes off the orange and white clad figures on the court.

“Both teams are incredibly strong this year,” Momoi murmurs. “Nakamura-san is not quite the captain Kasamatsu-san was but he has shown moments of incredible leadership. And what Shutoku lacks in veteran players, they make up for with strong first years.”

Aomine doesn’t reply, not the least bit interested in Momoi’s data.

Even from a distance, he can sense Kise and Midorima’s overwhelming hunger for the approaching battle. He’s positive, by the way the stadiums falls silent, that everyone else can too. His heart clenches because, fuck, he’s missed this: the squeal of sneakers and the explosive boom of the ball as its dribbled across the court, reading your opponents with half a glance and trusting your body to move in accordance, the thrill of the struggle and resulting victory.

He shouldn’t have come. He’s made a huge fucking mistake.

And yet, he can’t quite bring himself to leave. Watching his former middle school classmates, he hardly recognizes them - sure, Midorima’s shots are still ridiculously arced and Kise still learns in the blink of an eye. But the assurance and strength behind their moves are new - more than he thought them capable of possessing. 

It’s not until the two minute break between the third and fourth quarter that he finds his voice. “What happened to the others?”

“The others?” Momoi sounds surprised. “Well, Seirin lost to Kaijo and Rakuzen beat Yosen. They played Shutoku next and Rakuzen held a short lead for most of the game. But then Akashi-kun took a foul meant for someone else and was injured halfway through the third quarter.”

Aomine frowns, turning from the scoreboard where Kaijo leads 76 to 74. “Akashi was injured?” he asks. “Akashi Seijirou?”

Momoi nods, lowering her gaze. “Some desperate first year from Shutoku. It really shook up Midorin. Even with Akashi out, Rakuzen continued to take the lead and Midorin missed a shot that should have landed perfectly. It was awful, I’d never seen Akashi-kun look like that before.”

“Akashi? Why would he care? Isn’t that good for him?” Aomine takes a step back at the glare Momoi throws at him. “Or not.”

“You still haven’t learned anything, have you?” is all she says before turning away from him and crossing her arms.

He opens his mouth to ask what her fucking problem is but decides against it.

The game resumes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for Aomine-angst. I just felt like I needed to post something. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! Those are my favorite.
> 
> Up next:  
> -More slight canon divergence.  
> -Kuroko.  
> -Aomine goes to a birthday party.


	3. The Score

Kaijo wins, 104 to 105. Kise cries; not the pretty, single tear slide of music videos but ugly, hulking sobs. It’s hard to reconcile that blubbering mess with the smoldering teen idol image he usually presents to the public. Aomine would have laughed if Kise didn’t look so pathetic.

 

Once the teams disappear into their respective locker rooms, the crowd makes its way toward the exits. They jostle against Aomine, hardly sparing him a glance as they apologize, still too caught up in the excitement of the game they just witnessed.  Aomine grits his teeth as a hard knock against his shoulder sends him reeling sideways. The next person who touches him is getting punched in the face.

 

“That was an amazing game!” Momoi gushes. “Ki-chan’s perfect copy lasted almost a full quarter. He’s got to be the most unbeatable high school player in Japan at the moment. Although Mido-rin isn’t an easy opponent either. Did you see the way he...Dai-chan, are you listening? Dai-chan!”

 

He grunts. “I need some air,” he says and uses his height to forcefully weave his way outside, Momoi’s calls for him to wait fading behind him.

 

The sun has set but it’s still hotter than hell. Almost immediately, his t-shirt sticks to his back and his hair feels too heavy for his head. Still, he breathes easier than he did in that claustrophobic stadium filled with memories he’s fought hard to forget.

 

He stands against the wall just left of the main doors and watches as the exiting horde shrinks to a small crowd of loitering students, mostly middle schoolers, in groups of two or three. They discuss the match in fervent, mid-pubescent voices, complete with sound effects and dramatizations. He watches their poor form with a mix of amusement and pity although a few them seem to show actual potential.

 

“Look, a puppy!”

 

“It’s not a puppy! It’s just a little dog.”

 

He looks over at the commotion and spies a furball of black and white darting between the middle schoolers legs. Some of the boys yelp and spring away from the dog’s attempts at play. Others try to make a clumsy grab for the scruff of its neck or tail.  

 

Aomine, pitying the poor creature, squats low on the ground and whistles, a high and succinct trill.

 

The dog stops and snaps its head in his direction. Seeing Aomine’s outstretched hand, it bounds over to him, yapping cheerfully.

 

“Hey there,” he murmurs, using a finger to scratch the crease at the base of its ear. “Where’d you come from?”

 

The dog replies by laying on the ground and wriggling onto its back, tongue hanging out of its mouth and looking up at him expectantly. The brilliance and familiarity of its blue eyes momentarily surprises Aomine.

 

“Guess you’re a boy dog, huh?” He uses one hand to rub the soft fur of its belly and the other to pinch the ID tag dangling from the collar. He squints down at the engraved name. “Ni...gou?”

 

He thinks that’s a strange name for a dog and doesn’t notice the approaching footsteps nor the shadow that falls over him.          

 

“Hello.”

 

His hand freezes mid-rub. Nigou whines and rolls back onto its feet. He nudges at Aomine’s fingers with his wet nose.  

 

“Thank you for finding him, Aomine-kun. We’ve been looking for him everywhere.”

 

He looks up and suddenly the name makes much more sense. He quickly stands, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “Long time, Tetsu,” he says, making sure to sound as bored as possible.   

 

“Yes, it’s been a while.” Kuroko scoops Nigou into his arms. “It’s good to see you again.”  

 

Aomine swallows a sudden lump that had formed in his throat and nods, fighting against the memory of the last time they spoke.

 

*

 

_The buzzer signals the end of the fourth quarter and the referee calls for the end of the game._

 

_If it wasn’t for the scoreboard in front of his face, he wouldn’t have believed it. No, even with their defeat displayed in bright, red lights for the whole stadium to see, he’s not quite sure it’s real._

 

_Impossible, he thinks as he makes his way to the center of the court. No way. The only one who can beat me is -_

 

_His gaze finds Kuroko before he can finish the thought. Their eyes meet for a brief second. Kuroko blinks and sways, knees buckling from under him._

 

_Bewildered, Aomine steps forward, ready to catch him before he hits the ground but he ends up watching helplessly as Kagami gets there first._

 

_“Are you okay?” he asks, steadying Kuroko back onto his feet._

 

_“I’m fine,” Kuroko replies although he’s looking at Aomine as he says this, daring him to think otherwise. “I’m good.”_

 

_Aomine realizes he’s telling the truth._

 

_The reality of his defeat finally sinks in_

 

_He lost._

 

_Kuroko won._

 

_Without him._

 

_Kuroko doesn’t need him._

 

_He has someone else._

 

_Someone better._

 

_Each tiny epiphany rocks the foundation of everything he thought he knew about basketball. Mainly, his own invincibility and the absurd notion that Kuroko would come to realize the same._

 

_He inhales sharply. At this point, Aomine has two options._

 

_The first is to fall on his knees and beg for Kuroko’s forgiveness while crying like a little bitch. It’s frighteningly tempting but he glances over at the rest of his team and sees that Momoi is crying enough for the both of them._

 

_He goes with the second option: playing it cool and mustering every fiber of sportsmanship in his being._

 

_“You can hardly stand without support,” he says, grateful that his voice comes out steady, if subdued. “No one can tell who won now.”_

 

_It’s not the most graceful comment to make but it’s far from the most dickish thing that Aomine has ever said. The fact brings him a sense of closure and relief, that maybe it’s for the best._

 

_“Why are you acting like it’s over?” Kagami demands, hoisting a slipping Kuroko more securely over his shoulders. “Things aren’t over. Let’s play again and I’ll take you one-on-one.”_

 

_Aomine hates himself for the fleeting moment of excitement at the promise, remembering that he hates Kagami. “Shut up,” he mutters, curling his hands into fists._

 

_“Aomine-kun.”_

 

_He freezes, the sweat on his neck evaporating. His heart hammers in his chest and if they hadn’t already finished the game, he would have mistaken the feeling in his veins for adrenaline instead of fear._

 

_Ridiculous. Who could be afraid of Kuroko?_

 

_But Aomine remembers what he said the last time they faced each other and Seirin lost._

 

‘You’re basketball can’t win.’

 

 _Yes,_ **_that_ ** _is possibly the most dickish thing he has ever said. He hides a cringe by dropping his gaze toward the floor._

 

_“You haven’t returned my fist bump.”_

 

_Aomine’s head snaps up in surprise. “What?” he asks even though he heard Kuroko perfectly the first time. “Who cares about that?”_

 

_Kuroko shakes his head and extends a limp arm towards him. “Try putting yourself in the shoes of the ignored.”_

 

_Aomine stares at the black band around Kuroko’s wrist. It would be so easy. His hands are already formed into fists. All he has to do is reach out and touch him._

  
_He hesitates a moment too long. The referee calls for them to bow. He lowers his head, mumbles his thanks, and when he looks up, Kagami is already helping Kuroko back to his team._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't posted in a really long time. At this rate, the story will be done some time in 2056. 
> 
> I'm not happy with this chapter...but for some reason, I felt like I needed to post it. I may come back and tweak it bit later.
> 
> Also, I apologize for how short it is. Five months pass and this is all I got :/
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated!


	4. Interlude: Touo Academy First Year Winter Training Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I haven't updated in...two years. None of my fics are really discontinued. I just lose inspiration easily. 
> 
> This is the handjob that was mentioned in the first chapter.

Aomine is halfway down the darkened hall when he spots Momoi coming out of his room.

 

“Aomine-kun,” she admonishes when she spies him. She’s dressed in short, short cut-off sweatpants and a white t-shirt as pajamas. It’s modest compared to the silky negligees she wears at home but not by much, especially without a bra.

 

Her nipples stalk toward him. “Where have you been? It’s past curfew. Just because it’s winter break doesn’t mean you’re allowed to break the rules set by the school. Training camp resumes at 5 am tomorrow.”

 

Aomine doesn’t bother to mention that he has no intention of going to morning practice. “What are you, my nanny? Besides, you’re out after curfew too and not even supposed to be in this section of the school.” He uses the towel slung around his neck to wipe away stray drops of water on his bare torso before they can slide into his boxers.

 

Momoi rolls her eyes. “Next time, try not jack off for so long in the shower.”

 

Smirking, he whips his towel at her and she jumps away, breast bouncing in their thin, cotton confines.

 

“Grow up, Dai-chan,” she tells him before continuing down the hall, presumably back to the room with the other managers.

 

Having successfully annoyed Momoi, Aomine is in a good mood. Although she hadn’t been wrong about him masturbating in the shower.

 

When he finally gets back to his room, he finds Sakurai still awake. At least, he thinks it’s Sakurai, unsure of who else would be rolled up in his own blanket like a little kid hiding from a monster. “Oi, Ryou.”

 

A head of light-brown hair pops out of the blanket cocoon. “A-aomine-san,” Sakurai stutters. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

 

Aomine drops the towel on the floor, deciding he’ll deal with it tomorrow. “What the hell is the matter with you?” he asks bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush.

 

Sakurai doesn’t answer, retreating into the blanket so that only his humongous eyes are visible.

 

“You hiding snacks or something?” Aomine would murder somebody for chips after attempting to eat Satsuki’s cooking all day.

 

“No! No, I’m not hiding anything!” Sakurai protests although the light sheen of sweat on his forehead indicates otherwise.

 

Aomine shrugs and makes to walk past Sakurai to his own futon. Just as the shooting guard relaxes a bit, Aomine uses both hands, and the element of surprise, to grab the protective blanket and rip it away.

 

Sakurai yelps and scrabbles around for something, anything, to obscure what he’s really trying to hide: an obvious erection tenting the front of his pajama bottoms. He reaches for his pillow which Aomine kicks across the room.

 

“Well, well, well. Look who’s a grower. Don’t tell me that seeing Satsuki in her jammies got you all flustered.”

 

“Don’t…” Sakurai flushes, looking like he’s about to cry and Aomine feels a twinge of guilt.

 

Sighing, he sits on the futon next to Sakurai, who flinches, and he feels even worse. “Hey, I was just messing with you. It’s a totally normal reaction to seeing titties.”

 

Sakurai swallows hard and looks down. “I-I don’t...I just want it to go away,” he says, recognizes that it looks like he’s talking to his own dick, and turns his head.

 

Aomine wonders if it’s possible for a fifteen year old boy to never have had an erection before. It’s not as if Sakurai hasn’t gone through puberty and all the horror it entails, include sprouting random boners in the middle of class. “Okay, Ryou, you know it’s not permanent, right?” he says, trying to sound comforting and not like an asshole. “All you gotta do is, you know…” He makes a jerking off motion that’s more detailed that necessary.

 

“It’s past curfew,” Sakurai mumbles and presses down the tent of his pants with his palm as if he could squash it out of existence. A whimper escapes before he realizes what a terrible mistake he’s made.

 

A part of Aomine wants to tell Sakurai to just sleep it off but he still feels sort of bad for teasing him. “Look, it’s not a big deal if you want to finish off in here. We’re both dudes so I get that sometimes it can’t be helped.”

 

“Aomine-san.” Sakurai covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” Miraculously, his hard-on hasn’t wilted and Aomine is now 93% sure that Sakurai gets off on humiliation.

 

Irritated that the situation seems to have escalated, he grabs Sakurai’s wrists and yanks them away, forcing the embarrassed boy to face him. “Quit your fucking whining and get to it.”

 

Aomine means let go, he really does, but he finds himself tightening his grip in frustration as Sakurai continues to wail. “For fucks’s sake,” he mutters. Without really releasing the other boy, he uses a few fingers to yank down the waist of Sakurai’s bottoms, just enough to expose the leaking tip of his cock.

 

That immediately shuts him up.

 

The stunned silence is a welcome change from Sakurai’s usual groveling.

 

“Aomine…”

 

“Don’t say my name unless you want me to stop.”

 

“Ah-I’m sorry! I didn’t - I won’t say -”

 

“If you apologize, I will also stop,” Aomine adds.

 

Sakurai inhales sharply and presses his lips into a thin line. After what seems like forever, he nods.

 

Aomine starts by gently turning Sakurai so that they’re nested in one another, Aomine’s bare chest to his clothed back. He can’t see Sakurai’s face to gauge his reaction but for all other intents and purposes, the position works.

 

He isn’t sure why he’s doing this. Probably for no good reason but a mix of a few very terrible ones: he wants Sakurai to shut up and the shooting guard seems incapable of fixing the problem himself, he’s sort of curious to see if he can get off another guy, and it’s the least he can do after eating so many of Ryou’s bentos.

 

Aomine pulls Sakurai’s underwear and bottom around his knees, spreading his legs as far as the elastic bands will allow which isn’t very wide. Still, Sakurai groans and Aomine can’t help but smirk. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” he murmurs. He snakes his right arm forward. He wraps the left around Sakurai’s waist.

 

He uses his right index finger to smear the dribbling pre-cum down the shaft. There isn’t enough for adequate lubrication but there’s not much he can do about it at this point. He wraps his palm around Sakurai’s cock and gives it a gentle squeeze.

 

Sakurai gasps, squirming in Aomine’s embrace.

 

Another squeeze. “Is this okay?”

 

He feels Sakurai nod. Aomine begins moving his hand, occasionally pressing the head with the pad of his thumb during the upward motion.

 

“Oh my,” Sakurai whispers. “Oh my, oh my.”

 

It has to be too raw and dry to be pleasurable. Aomine removes his hand, spits into his palm, and resumes.

 

“Fuck,” Sakurai yelps, bucking upward and Aomine tightens his arm around the other boy’s waist.

 

Aomine has never heard his teammate swear before and even though he’s not exactly aroused, his interest is certainly piqued. He speeds up and Sakurai hisses a litany of curses under his breath. Aomine is impressed. “Who knew that sweet, apologetic Ryou has been hiding such a filthy mouth?”

 

Sakurai’s hands fly up to muffle himself.

 

Minutes pass with nothing but the schlick of Aomine rubbing more precum down Sakurai’s cock and heavy breaths filling the room.

 

Just as Aomine starts to get bored, Sakurai suddenly tips his head back and shudders, releasing a low, broken moan. Something warm splash across his knuckles and finally, Aomine can get some sleep.

 

He’s just about to tell Sakurai to sit up when he’s suddenly jerked back by the short hairs on his head.

 

“What the fuck are you doing to Sakurai!”

 

“Oh Wakamatsu-senpai.” Aomine blinks up innocently at the fuming second-year. “Did we wake you?”

 

“Don’t ‘Wakamatsu-senpai’ me, you bastard! I’m about two seconds away from calling the police!” He raises the hand not holding Aomine’s hair, fingers clenched into a fist.

 

A hot, angry knot clenches in Aomine’s stomach. “What the fuck kind of -”

 

“Senpai! Please!” Sakurai tugs at Wakamatsu’s arm, having somehow managed to tuck himself back into his pajamas. “Aomine-san was just helping me!”

 

“Helping you?” Wakamatsu looks confused. “Aomine was helping you?”

 

Sakurai nods miserably. “Momoi-san had stopped by earlier and she was wearing this t-shirt and she…” He gestures toward the pectoral area. “Please, Wakamatsu-senpai, don’t tell anyone.”

 

“Oh.” Wakamatsu releases Aomine and steps back. “Oh. Well, I suppose if this was all done with your permission and your issue has been resolved, then we should all go to bed. Early day tomorrow.” The Center awkwardly clears his throat, shuffles back to his futon and pulls the blanket over his head. “Good night.”

 

Sakurai sighs with relief and turns to Aomine, looking up at him through his bangs. “Thanks Aomine-san.”

 

Aomine, suddenly feeling like he’s been hit by a truckload of pillows, nods and heads toward his own futon. “Don’t mention it.” He doesn’t bother putting on a shirt before crawling beneath the blanket. “Seriously, not a single soul.”

 

He shudders, thinking what Imayoshi would do with that kind of information. And Susa would give him that look of disappointment which somehow reminds him of Kuroko, Midorima, and Akashi combined.

 

“Good night, Aomine-san.”

 

“Night, Ryou. Now shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aomine is such a jerk.
> 
> See you in 2020.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments appreciated.


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